


I Do (Not at This Time)

by LadyArinn



Series: Various Weddings for Various Pairings [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Runaway Bride, Wedding Planning, Weddings, runaway groom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 23:36:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13512123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyArinn/pseuds/LadyArinn
Summary: Hermione want's to marry Draco. She wants everything to go perfectly. She loves him.His mother, it seems, believes the same but in vastly different ways than Hermione.





	I Do (Not at This Time)

  
It starts innocently enough when they go to tell his mother the news. She and Draco had always been close, their love for one another one of the few truly undeniable things about the Malfoys, and so he was insistent on the woman being the first to know. Hermione, who had never really managed to find a common ground with the woman but loved Draco, had agreed.

Narcissa Malfoy stared at them for a moment in shock after they had told her, her grip on her tea cup going a bit loose so that it was momentarily in danger of dropping and spilling tea all over her pristine robes.

“En…” She hesitated, blinking, and Hermione couldn’t be anything but fascinated by this atypical display, “Engaged?”

“Yes, Mother.” Draco nodded stiffly, uncomfortable with how speechless and out of character his mother was acting. Narcissa stared for another moment before nodding, a distant look in her eyes.

“We thought you could help plan the wedding!” Draco threw out like he was desperately trying to save her from drowning, and Hermione shot him a look and stomped on his foot beneath the table because  _ no  _ they had  _ not. _

But it seems to snap the woman out of her trance.

“Really?” She asked Hermione, who floundered for just a moment before she took in the look Draco was giving her, pleading with her, and the cautious look in her soon-to-be mother-in-law’s eyes.

“Yes.” She managed to say convincingly, smiling thinly at the pleased smile that stretched on Narcissa’s face.

Maybe this was a way for them to find more common ground than loving Draco enough to tolerate one another. Maybe this was what she needed to finally connect to the distant woman and prove what she knew were her still held muggle-born beliefs wrong.

“I always thought a winter wedding would be lovely,” She laid out tentatively, carefully and precisely setting her tea cup back into its saucer. Draco slyly slipped his hand into Hermione’s under the table and squeezed, and the young woman sighed.

“A winter wedding would be nice.” She allowed.

 

* * *

 

_ I know you were considering a few different places _ , Narcissa wrote in her letter, her beautiful penmanship making Hermione’s head hurt, S _ ome even in the muggle world. But I would like to suggest the gardens of Malfoy Manor. It is tradition, but also they look lovely in the winter with the snow. We could place a number of spells to maintain a comfortable temperature and the decorations. _

“It  _ is  _ tradition.” Draco nodded, with that little bit of wistfulness he always got when talking about some of the Malfoy traditions that were important to him, and Hermione might have had fantasies about where she’d like to go, but none were so important that she could ignore  _ that _ .

“I always liked the idea of a garden wedding.” Hermione mused, smirking a bit at the pleased smile Draco gave, “So, I suppose…”

He kissed her like he could make anything worth it, and she thought,  _ okay. Okay. _

 

* * *

 

“You certainly seem busy, Hermione.” Narcissa noted casually during their third meeting, and Hermione bristled.

“Well yes, Narcissa, that is what happens when you are attempting to plan a wedding while working as one of the most in demand magical creature lawyers in wizarding Britain. You get a bit  _ busy _ .” She said, the acidic words flung like daggers.

She had heard enough about her job from people who knew nothing about it, thank you very much.

Narcissa’s lips fold thin as she focuses on the piles of fabric swatches before her, eyes gone flat and entire disposition closing up.

“I see.” She said icily, though not rudely. How she managed to always be proper and held together and so exacting had always been such a mystery to Hermione. The young woman was too prone to bouts of anger and recklessness and just general  _ emotion  _ that that much control was frankly astonishing and frightening.

Hermione, seeing that she’d been too short considering what might very well have been an innocent comment, apologizes stiffly for the outburst. She just barely manages to keep from pointing out that the only reason she was so stressed out was that this was the second time they’d met just to go over the color scheme and, apparently, once they managed that hurdle they’d move into the riveting decision making process of finding the right table cloths and lighting options. So far the meetings they’d had had each lasted over three hours, and if it even approached that length Hermione would have to set something on fire because, honestly, she’d rather burn the stuffy sitting room and the entire Malfoy Manor to ashes before sitting down to talk about the merits of silk versus satin again.

“It’s alright,” Narcissa says smoothly, somehow sounding partially sincere but also like there wasn’t an ounce of forgiveness in her heart, “I remember how stressful it was to plan a wedding. And you have to work that job of yours on top of it… It’s commendable, really.” She demurred, a false smile slightly curling her lips as Hermione shrinks back a bit from that bit of masked judgement. “Now, I know you said that you were against green last week, but I do believe that silver will work wonderfully. It is, after all, a wonderful winter color. And also, we need to begin discussing seating arrangements.”

“The wedding isn’t for ten months!” Hermione protested, “Why do we need to know where people are setting so soon?”

Narcissa gave her a flat look as if the answer should be obvious and Hermione sighed, a headache forming rapidly behind her eyes.

“I can’t  _ wait  _ until Draco gets here.” Hermione muttered under her breath as she looked,  _ again _ , at the color swatches Narcissa had presented her with. After all, Draco was actually good at these types of things, and he enjoyed it. Hermione honestly would just prefer it if her fiancé was making all these types of decisions, and had no idea why she was surrounded by the horrors of wedding planning while he wasn’t. 

“Oh?” Narcissa hummed, “I apologize for not telling you earlier, but I sent Draco a letter asking him to pick up some things for me. He won’t be able to help out today.”

Hermione gaped at the woman as she smoothly changed topic to the merits of gold versus red, two of the top colors Hermione had given just to see what the woman would do.

 

* * *

 

“I think your mother is trying to murder me.” Hermione stated flatly while staring into her tea as she and Draco caught a quick lunch just outside of the ministry. He smelled heavily of lemongrass and had been in the middle of complaining that the other apprentice had absolutely  _ ruined  _ and entire weeks worth of work with unabashed incompetence. 

“Oh, please Granger, interrupt me so that I can spend my lunch break listening to you complain about my mother.” He said archly, but when she didn’t even look up from her grumpy consideration of her tea she was allowing to grow cold.

“She’s not letting you do anything on purpose. I know it. And I’m pretty sure she brings up the most boring things she can at the beginning so that I can’t pay any attention and she can do as she likes.” She mutters. Draco sighs. 

“I don’t-”

“It’s a  _ women’s work  _ thing.” She spat out, and he winced. “Every time I bring up you coming or helping she changes the topic and makes sure you won’t even step foot near the manor for hours. She thinks that you get a pass from this  _ hell  _ just because of your prick.”

“I’ll talk to her.” He sighs,crossing his legs and making sure to kick her as he went, smirking as she focused her glare on him. Where it should be.

“This is just... Utterly draining.” She huffed, kicking him back and finally taking a sip of her tea.

“But worth it.” He says archly, like it was a obvious thing she’d been taking for granted.

She looks down at the flashing ruby and emeralds on her finger, elegant and understated and everything she had wanted in her ring, then at Draco and thinks yeah. Worth it.

 

* * *

 

Narcissa had just started going on about the designers she had contacted for Hermione’s wedding robes when she was interrupted by the future daughter-in-law herself, who was very carefully pinching her lips together to keep from saying something she would regret.

“Actually, I’m going out with my mum to look at dresses in a few weeks.” Hermione said, staring at the woman across from her with hardened eyes because this was the one thing that she absolutely would not compromise on. “It’ll just be the two of us.” She challenged, just waiting to see how the woman would take the news.

“Is that so?” Narcissa asked. Hermione nodded.

“She’s been feeling left out of the wedding planning, and it’s honestly something that I really want to do with her. And since the ceremony is largely wizard influenced,” Though not from a lack of trying on Hermione’s part, “Wearing a gown instead of robes can help tie that piece of me into the ceremony.”

“I see.” The woman murmured, so obviously not happy. But Hermione nodded her head sharply and held her ground, which is how she found herself happily with her mother at a small bridal boutique in London, giddy and nervous in turn.

Gown after gown was pulled out and cooed over before being harshly critiqued by each woman, the two of them like minded in their goal of finding the perfect dress. Nothing less than the best would do.

“How is Draco _,_ by the way?” Her mother asked as Hermione was being helped into a gown, looking at the veils on display and getting a little teary eyed at the thought that soon her daughter would be getting _married._

“He’s good. Right now he’s trying to find a quicker method of creating a few different medicines, but the head-chemist at his job isn’t too keen on the idea.” Hermione said, editing her statement for the muggle ears all around them. As the attendant worked on the row of miniscule buttons at her back she found herself wishing that there was a mirror in the dressing room so that she could see how she looked. It was nerve-wracking, not knowing how she looked and if it was  _ the one  _ until she was out in the staging area.

“Is he very involved with the planning?”

“He’s really excited, and we talk about it nearly every night.” Hermione sidestepped, still stewing over the fact that Narcissa still continued to find reasons for Draco to leave or not even be there for the planning sessions, expecting Hermione to have all of the opinions she could then ignore for her own. And Draco wanted to be involved, he was so excited for the wedding and had all of these wonderful ideas, but…

Hermione steps out of the dressing room and her mother lights up just as she had with all the previous dresses. But when Hermione sees herself in the mirrors she knows that there is something different because her breath leaves her.

It was a simple a-line gown, beautiful ivory lace starting at her waist and layered over chiffon to give it some shape but not to take away the timelessness of it. The neckline was high but the sleeves were two delicate, capped little things, and as Hermione took herself in she couldn’t help the hitch in her breath or the tears that sprung to her eyes.

“There we go.” Her mother murmured, coming over to hug her daughter from behind, the both of them taking in the dress in the mirror. “That’s the one we’ve been waiting for.”

“Mum,” Hermione croaked, “I’m getting  _ married _ .”

The attendant immediately was at her side with tissues, smiling sympathetically as Hermione sniffled pathetically.

 

* * *

 

The night before the wedding Hermione and Draco carefully escorted Hermione’s parents to the manor, the elder Malfoys keeping their distance as the two muggles looked over their home with a cursory glance.

“You’re not having it in here, are you?” Her father whispered as they walked through the foyer and then up the stairs to where they would be staying.

“No.”

“Oh, good.” Her father sighed, “It looks a bit too stuffy for that.”

Draco snorted, shooting a look toward his parents to make sure they were far enough away that they couldn’t hear. 

“I’m sure the gardens will be lovely, though.” Hermione’s mother assured as they walked up the stairs to the Malfoys, who then led them to their rooms.

Hermione hid a grin as Draco whined about the two of them being separated into different rooms for the night, both of his parents flatly denying him because of the apparent importance of the tradition. Even Hermione’s parents laughingly agreed, telling the befuddled wizards that it was a muggle custom as well.

“A bit less used now, mind you, but it always makes everything a bit more gratifying at the end.” Eliza laughed, smiling at the stiff looking Malfoys, trying to brush past the awkwardness the other parents seemed intent on putting on the evening. “Richard and I did the same when we got married.”

Draco huffed and puffed and wined, but everyone remained unmoved. Finally, Hermione rolled her eyes and shoved her fiancé away in a way that had her future in laws staring at her in a mix of shock and distaste, and that had her parents laughing, amused.

“Go sleep in your room, you prat. We’ll see each other tomorrow and then we’ll be stuck together up until we’re sick of each other.” She huffed, warming when she saw the small smile he wasn’t able to hide, pleased at the thought.

_ Possessive bastard _ , she thought fondly.

Hermione was escorted into a room in a completely different wing than Draco, her parents set up in the room beside her. Once everyone knew where they would be for the night they then went down to the opulent dining room to eat, everyone avoiding the drawing room like a plague, though the two elder Grangers did not notice their more rounded and lengthy path. 

Dinner was awkward, as it always was when Hermione was forced to eat in the manor, made even more so by the two muggles who had no idea why the house elves and the elder Malfoys shifted so uncomfortably whenever the three of them thanked the creatures for serving them. 

“It is a… Lovely home.” Richard offered at one point, awkward in a way that made Hermione dread every word coming out of his mouth but sincere in a way that Hermione was so unbearably thankful for. “So very… Large. And old.”

“It has been in the Malfoy family for generations.” Lucius said stiffly before going on to an incredibly long had boring history lesson about the manor that had everyone near tears.

Hermione zoned out somewhere after Augustus Malfoy’s reign, fork idly poking at her roast as she wondered if tomorrow was going to be just as long winded and dull as this dinner. Narcissa had planned nearly everything since Hermione had always tired of the planning after the first hour, unsure of  _ why  _ the napkin colors mattered. So she knew basically nothing of what she was going into the next day and it was unsettling, the entire thing sitting wrong in the bottom of her stomach.

She jumped a bit when she felt a nudge against her foot and looked to the side to see Draco giving her an almost obviously concerned look hidden beneath his arched eyebrows. She shook her mood off and gave him a small smile and a shrug. He studied her a moment before smiling a bit more deviously and then pressing his foot more fully against hers.

She held off on the urge to laugh, wondering at how such a small thing made him feel like such a rebel in his parent’s home. It was ridiculous.

Hiding her grin in her glass of wine, Hermione hooked her foot over Draco’s to hold it close and nearly choked when the action caused the man to blush and attempt to hide it in his own wine.

He was ridiculous, Hermione thought fondly, eating her food with more vigor now. 

_ He’s mine _ , she thinks contentedly, a little bit possessive, and tomorrow was about that. Not the stuff that had been planned without her and the things she was unsure of. 

 

* * *

 

It unravels fairly quickly the next day.

There are stylists for her makeup, stylists for her hair. One for her nails, and one for the accessories she hadn’t even been aware she was going to wear.

The hair stylist was in the middle of hissing at Hermione’s stubborn curls, Eliza laughing at it all as her daughter sat uncomfortable, when Narcissa swept in, looking beautiful and regal in her fur-lined formal robes.

“We’re behind schedule.” She said flatly as she looked the chaos over. 

“I apologize, Lady Malfoy,” The hair stylist grit out as yet another curl burst out of the strict confines she had attempted to place it in, “It isn’t going as I had thought.”

“Just spell it in place.” She demanded, and as the stylist lifts her wand with an almost crazed look in her eyes Hermione’s mother steps in, abruptly concerned.

“Now, I don’t think there’s any need for that.” She scolds gently. “There’s plenty we can do without putting spells on her hair.”

“It won’t  _ hurt  _ it.” Narcissa sighed out, narrowing her eyes at the other woman who shook her head.

“Hermione’s hair is lovely as it is, and we don’t need to be so rough with it.”

“We need to-”

“I want my mum to do my hair.” Hermione interrupted, flushing as everyone's attention turned to her. Narcissa glared.

“I am in the middle of doing it.” The stylist huffed, but Eliza slipped in none the less. 

“Of course, love.” She murmured warmly, gently untangling  the mess that had been pinned up thus far. “Won’t be fancy, but we never really needed fancy.”

She’s as patient with the thick and unruly curls as she had ever been, smoothing the friz with the pot of Sleekeazy’s and making a neat braid that she decorated with the silver and gold miniature flowers the stylist had brough and had spelled to stick into her hair.

It calms Hermione, makes her feel a bit more in control, to have her mother doing such a simple thing amongst the elegant chaos.

“Well, now that that is done-” Narcissa started to frigidly say, though she was interrupted when the door flew open and two loudly talking wizards burst into the room.

“Hermione you won’t believe-”

“ _ Hermione  _ did you know-” Harry and Ron cried out as they spilled into the room, freezing as everyone’s attention turned to them.

“Hello.” Harry awkwardly greeted the room, hair standing up in unruly tufts and tie slightly askew, though no where near as bad as Ron’s. Ron hurried over to Hermione, who was watching them with no small amount of amusement.

“Mione,” He hissed, waving a greeting at Hermione’s mother, “Did you know that there are reporters out there?”

_ “What?” _ She hissed back.

“Yeah, from like, every newspaper. Rita Skeeter is even out there!”

“What are… We need to get rid of them!” She yelped, “How did they even get here?”

“I’m sure we can get rid of them.” Her mother soothed, “It’s private property so they can’t stay if you tell them not to.”

“I invited them.” Narcissa said archly, walking up to them and having heard their whispered consultation, eyebrows rising when four pairs of baffled eyes turned to her. “This is the biggest wedding of this year, with a  _ Malfoy  _ and a war hero being wed and, well, did you really think we could get through this without any reporters?” She asked, a little incredulous.

“This… This is my wedding! Of course I didn’t want any reporters.” Hermione exclaimed, voice getting higher and higher as she went.

“You’ll barely notice they’re there.” Narcissa waved away, “So long as everything goes along the plan I created.”

“Narcissa,” Eliza said quietly, and Narcissa recoiled a little from the shock of the muggle actually addressing her directly, “I don’t think this is the proper way to go about this. Hermione didn’t even  _ know.” _

“She should have. I would have thought it was obvious, what with the high profile of the event.” Narcissa told her, honestly a little confused at how no one was accepting it and moving on.

Hermione sat there, eyes wide as she struggled to comprehend what was happening, and Narcissa took that as enough of an agreement to move forward.

“We need to get the dress on.” She announced, and her army of stylists scurried to do her bidding.

“I’ll go see what I can do about the reporters.” Harry whispered, face scrunched up in concern. Hermione numbly nodded and her friends hurried out, hoping that there would be something they could do.

“Here is the gown.” One of the stylists announced proudly, and Hermione heard her mother gasp before she saw it, before she turned around and felt a bit like she’d been punched in the chest.

Her beautifully simple gown had been replaced by a huge fluffy monstrosity that seemed grow bigger the longer you stared at it. At first Hermione thought it was some kind of joke or trick, or that Narcissa had gotten a completely different gown, but then she noticed the lace on top was the same, though it had now been spelled to glitter with crystals all over, and that the material was the same, though magnified and with dozens of layers underneath.

“What did you  _ do?”  _ She breathed, wide-eyed and horrified, and Narcissa didn’t even notice, looking over the dress with an appreciative eye.

“I looked through muggle fashion books for weddings after you said you were getting one of their sorts of gowns and I have to admit, some of the styles are nice. Then I saw yours and, well, with what we’re doing her it really wasn’t a good fit. So I had the designers edit it. It’s still a muggle style though, don’t worry.” She said like she was conceding something.

Hermione sat there, struck completely mute by the absolute gall of the woman, and before she could figure out what to say a house elf appeared.

“Missus Malfoy, they are having difficulties with the cake.” It squeaked, and Narcissa sighed heavily.

“I will be back, please hurry and put the dress on we’re behind schedule.” She ordered before sweeping out of the room.

Everything was still for a moment after she left before one of the stylists started, “Miss Granger, if you could-”

_ “Get OUT!” _ Hermione bellowed, bursting out of her chair and leaving the stylists scrambling back. “I don’t- I want all of you  _ out! _ ”

“But-”

Hermione whipped out her wand, and immediately the small army was scurrying out of the room, leaving just her and her mother.

“I can’t… I  _ can’t  _ Mum.” Hermione croaked, squeezing her eyes tight against the threat of tears because this hadn’t been the most important thing to her, not even close, but she had still cared about the end result. She had still wanted to get married to the man she loved by the end of the day.

But not like this.

“Alright, tell me what you need.” Eliza gently requested, pulling Hermione gently into her arms and petting her hair. The younger woman shook her head.

“I need to leave.” She whispered into her mother’s throat, and Eliza pulled back.

“That’s a little drastic.” She cautioned, and Hermione yanked out of her arms.

“No, all of this… The reporters and the stylists and the  _ dress…  _ Mum, I don’t even know what it is going look like when I go out there.  _ This isn’t my wedding _ .” She gasped, yanking the decorations out of her hair and aggressively rubbing the makeup off her face with the cloth that had been left on the vanity.

“I’m going to go get Draco.” Her mother quietly said, slipping out of the room as Hermione stormed into the bedroom that was connected to the lounge all the pre-wedding activity for the bridal party had been centered in.

Her bag was sitting on the bed, packed and ready for the honeymoon they had planned. She tore into it, demolishing the carefully folded organization, pulling out a sweater and a pair of jeans with shaking hands.

“Hermione?” She heard Draco’s familiar voice call, and she bit her lip to keep from screaming because she couldn't handle this. She just couldn’t.

She fumbled with the clasp of her jeans, blinking angry tears out of her eyes as she listened to Draco’s precise footsteps come closer and closer until he was standing in the door.

“ _ What  _ are you doing?” He bit out, but she had known him long enough to hear the undercurrent of vulnerability, to hear the slight way his voice broke as he took in the sight she made, makeup smeared on her face, tears running down her cheeks, struggling to pull on clothes that were decidedly not for a wedding ceremony.

“Your mother has  _ ruined  _ everything.” She choked out, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand as she tried to remember how to breathe.

She couldn’t believe she was going to be a runaway bride. How could she do this?

“She… She planned this entire thing, she invited  _ reporters  _ to a private event and… and… This isn’t my wedding! This is all hers, every bit of it and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but I can’t stay. I have to…” She shook her head and sat down to pull on her shoes, everything getting blurrier the more tears that came.

Draco sighed heavily. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier about my mother getting this bad?” He huffed. Hermione shot him a acidic glare, finally looking up at him and feeling  absolutely devastated at how handsome he looked in his dress robes, perfectly put together and ready for his wedding.

“Because you wanted her to be happy and involved and if I had even stepped one toe outside the lines she had drawn she would have thrown a fit in the most elegant way possible and it would have devastated you. But I can only go so far to keep you and your mother happy.” She choked out. He stiffened, face going stiff in a way he rarely ever did with her, and without another word he turned on his heel and walked right out the room.

Well. That certainly spoke louder than any words he could have said, didn’t it?

She took a for moments just to sit there and cry, choking and shaking as she sobbed and wondered if this was it. She’d made her decision, everything was done, now she had to find a new apartment and feel miserable for the next few months because Draco wouldn’t forgive her, and what was she going to do with that? She was going to be that girl who ran away from her own wedding and couldn’t even get over it or her ex-fiance and how did everything get so horrible?

The door to the lounge was opened once again and this time the footsteps coming in were hurried, and she looked up in shock as Draco came in wearing pressed slacks and a tidy button up and vest.

“What are you…?” She whispered, watching him with no small amount of shock. Draco shot her a very annoyed look as he came over with a handkerchief and started to wipe up the mess of her face.

“You want to run away from our wedding? Fine, I’ll go with you. The next time you want to get married I’ll plan the whole bloody thing with you and my mother doesn’t even have to get close to it until the day of. If you don’t want to get married after this, well, we’re going to have words because I disagree. But even if it has to be a fucking elopement, I’ll do it. So stop crying and let’s just go on what was  _ supposed  _ to be our honeymoon and get away from this since it’s making you utterly miserable and unbearable.”

Hermione nearly tackles him to the floor, throwing herself on him and holding on tight, sniffling as he sighed heavily and awkwardly rubbed her back.

“Come on, Granger, get yourself together. You’ll need to be in top shape if we’re going to make a run for it.” He murmured and she nodded, taking a moment to wipe her face and blow her nose before taking his hand and holding it tight.

“I love you, and I will marry you.” She whispered, voice made hoarse and ragged from all of the crying. He smirked at her, but his eyes were soft beneath it all.

“Of course you are. I’m quite the catch, you know.” He sniffed, squeezing her hand and tugging her out to the hall, where his bag was sitting in wait. As they passed, Hermione made sure to take a moment to glare at the monstrous dress laying discarded on the floor in a mound of fluffy white tulle and silk.

They sneak outside, which is less difficult to do than they would have thought since everyone was busy being completely focused on the wedding preparations, so they sneak down past the anti-apparition wards and hesitate a moment.

Standing in the middle of the cobbled lane leading up to the Malfoy manor, just out of sight of the buildings huge and judgemental windows, the sun bright and the air around them cool and crisp, Hermione watches Draco for any sign of wavering.

He’s beautiful, as always, pale hair sweeping over his forehead and looking as impeccable as he always did. He stares back as she studies him, one thin eyebrow arching up judgmentally, mouth curling a bit condescending, but his hand was steady in hers, and warm.

She could hear the bustle of a crowd - a very,  _ very  _ large crowd - coming from behind the manor, but it feels so far away in this moment, the both of them hidden and clutching each other and their bags, moments from flying away, and the joy that overcomes her is nearly overwhelming in that moment. 

When she waves her wand her patronus comes easier than it ever had.

“Harry, Draco and I are leaving, please take my parents home. And make sure everyone knows they shouldn’t let the food meant for the reception go to waste. Thank you, don’t worry.” She told the creature, watching it swim away in a streak of silver before turning back to Draco and smiling gratefully as he gripped her hand tight and took her away with the familiar pull of appariation.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought it would be fun if both the bride and groom ran away, and thus this was born. I am very tired, so it was very quickly edited. All mistakes may be ignored, and you have been warned.


End file.
